


we are vegetarian aliens

by wearethewitches



Series: author's favourites [12]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Drunken Confessions, Eggs, F/F, Gen, there really is a lot more eggs than i thought there were in retrospect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 18:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14550351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: a prompt for anon: drunk!in-ze twins (that was supposed to be crack but just turned out to be vaguely angsty and normal)-“Eggs in the microwave? What kind of heathen is your wife?” M’gann demands, wrinkling her nose. “You make scrambled eggs on a pan with bacon-”





	we are vegetarian aliens

“Why did I do this with you?”

Astra slides another shot of some kind of alien alcohol across to her in answer. “Because, sister, you wanted a break from human law school and going out with your human friends to get drunk isn’t feasible.”

Alura groans, leaning sideways onto her sister’s shoulder. “I don’t like being drunk, it makes me think of lots of things I wouldn’t.”

“That’s what being drunk _is,_ ” Astra replies, patting Alura’s head gently. “Did you get all your essays done, before you came?”

“Yes,” Alura reaches for the shot glass at the reminder, wanting to completely forget the nightmare that were her essays. Downing the fiery liquid, Alura struggles not to cough, accepting the citrus piece that Astra offers, still leaning on her. “I miss Lucy.”

“Oh?” Astra queries, sounding like it amuses her, “Do you really? What do you miss about your wife, Alura?”

“Her hair. Her smile,” Alura sighs, moping, “She makes me scrambled eggs in the morning and I haven’t been able to make them the same way.”

“You might have the milk to egg ratio wrong,” M’gann offers as Astra motions for the bottle, watching as she pours more shots for them both. “Or the temperature might be wrong. Oil makes a pan hotter.”

“We make eggs in the microwave machine,” Alura meets eyes with the Martian, not expecting the horrified expression. “What is it?”

“Eggs in the _microwave?_ What kind of heathen is your wife?” M’gann demands, wrinkling her nose. “You make scrambled eggs on a pan with bacon-”

“We don’t eat meat,” Astra interrupts, “Unlike my sacrilegious niece.”

“The point remains: you make any type of eggs in a pan,” M’gann moves away to answer some other patron’s demands, Alura frowning.

“Why _does_ Kara eat meat?”

“She was raised that way,” Astra replies magnanimously, pushing a shot to Alura when – predictably – her sister’s mood sours as a result. “Apologies. This is supposed to be a night of fun and relaxation.”

“Instead, we talk about the wrong way to make scrambled eggs and how Kara was raised into eating animals.”

Astra clinks a shot glass against Alura’s. “To dreadful conversation.”

Alura snorts, “To dreadful conversation.”


End file.
